


another pair of feet

by CrazyLaughter



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Fluff, Humour, Implied Mpreg, M/M, Miscommunication, Mpreg, Mpreg Harry
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-19
Updated: 2017-03-19
Packaged: 2018-10-07 21:07:26
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,154
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10369440
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CrazyLaughter/pseuds/CrazyLaughter
Summary: where Harry is pregnant and Louis is an oblivious idiot.





	

Over the frame of Liam's spectacles, he sees his nurse teeter from his seat into the bathroom. After a minute, there's the sound of flushing and Harry comes out with a sigh of relief and his shoulders slump under his scrubs. Worry lingers on Liam's brow as he gives him a once over.

Harry pinches his mouth when their eyes meet. "Alright, Dr Payne?"

"I should be asking you that, Harry. Are you alright?"

He scrunches his eyebrows. "Yeah, 'course, I am. Why wouldn't I be?"

Liam's beady eyes train over him once again, and it makes the hairs on the back of Harry's neck stand. There is something more that general scrutiny in Liam's gaze, but he can't quite place a finger on it. Because, ah, that's Liam's look when he diagnoses. Which meant he was diagnosing. Which also meant there was something wrong in Harry.

"That was your fourth trip to the bathroom since morning. It's only a bit past noon now. Shouldn't you be worried?"

Harry snorts out of disbelief. The doctor was always a worry wart, his mothering was worse than Anne's, and that was saying something. "Knock it off, Liam. Must've had a lot of water."

"We've had six patients, and you've assisted to all of them. You've sat at your desk otherwise, and you've been in front of me the entire time. You drank out of your bottle not once." Liam hums while deep in thought. "Since you've come, there's been something with you. You've been hunching over all week." Harry goggles at him. "Eh. It comes with being a doctor. You're prone to noticing every little detail."

"I think you're just overreacting," Harry scoffs as he makes his way back to the desk. He slides into his seat and glares at the doctor. "There's nothing wrong just because I've been a bit tired."

"Well, considering today, you're urinating a lot," Liam hums once again. He tends to do that. Harry looks taken aback. "Think about it, Harry. You're a nurse, surely you've studied about it. Frequent urination and fatigue is a common symptom of what?" He raises his eyebrows. "Does it run in your family?"

Harry's face contorts in confusion. But, a beat later he jumps out of his skin. "Diabetes insipidus," he gasps.

"What do you think?"

"I do feel the need to wee a lot," Harry confesses, his eyes struck with panic. "What if... Liam, I-"

Liam rubs his face with a sigh. It's really all his fault. "I'm sorry for planting that idea in your head. Calm down, Harry. There is no sign of extreme thirst, is there? Calm down," he swears under his breath.

However, Harry doesn't look so convinced. "I dunno," he muses dubiously. "I really haven't been feeling well, to be honest. I'm tired and my feet hurt and the there's the bathroom problem. Do you think you can still test me in case?" The latter opens his mouth to protest. "C'mon, it isn't much work. I just want to be sure."

Liam sighs and nods anyway.

***

Half an hour later, Liam had persuaded the nurse into not going for complete body check-up out of fear and had moved to the lab with just his urine sample. Other nurse had come to deliver the results in an envelope as Harry sat across him with jittery knees. Harry was never this dramatic. His emotions were over the place even when Liam assured him that it was all a joke.

"Have you been sexually active?" Liam asks while he tears open the envelope. Harry raises his eyebrows at him till the tips of his ears turn red. "Of course, you are. My bad, I already knew that."

Harry peers at Liam as he goes through the document with furrowed eyebrows. He jolts at once and stands straighter against his desk, glancing at Harry with wide eyes and back at the paper again. Harry stands up as well, and clenches his fist to his side. "What? Liam, what is it?"

"I should have expected this. Maybe I am a little dumb," Liam mutters to himself.

"Liam," Harry trills sharply. "What is it? You said there was nothing is wrong me!"

Liam looks up at him with dancing eyes and a tiny smile as he lowers the paper. "There's nothing wrong with you, Harry. Now, sit down. Sit down," he repeats when he doesn't listen. Harry scrambles back into his chair. "You should be sitting down for this," he explains. "I dunno how to tell you this without sounding dramatic. But, Hazza." He breaks out into a grin like he can't stop it.

"You're going to be a father."

In reply, Harry only blinks.

"Harry?"

"I don't think I heard you right," Harry says slowly.

Liam strides forward, pulling him to his feet wobbly by dragging his shoulders up. "Mate, you're pregnant. About four weeks in."

Harry still blinks at him owlishly. "Oh." He pauses. "But, I don't have any sickness or anything like that? I'm s'pposed to, right?"

"It's a common symptom, but not everybody experiences it. I'd say, you're lucky."

"Oh."

The doctor frowns. "Are you not happy?"

A moment later, Harry's lips stretch out into a smile that nearly cover his whole face, dimples popping into their respective positions. His eyes are set blaze with exuberance and happiness. He jerks his head in frantic nods. "Yeah," he breaths out. "Yeah, I'm happy. So happy. I'm going to have a baby. I'm pregnant."

Liam smiles too, in his usual crinkly way. He bunches Harry into a hug and squeezes the back of his neck. "You are. This is what you wanted, right, lad?"

Harry nods once again. His arms go around the latter in a death grip. He sounds breathless when he replied. "I did. We did." He pulls back with the same smile that didn't waver. "Louis and I, err...we were trying for an year or so until a couple of months ago and it wasn't really giving us results, so we decided that if it happens, it happens. I suppose I've been unconsciously expecting it, but I'm still shocked."

"Of course you're shocked!" Liam laughs, candidly rhapsodic. There's a jump in his step as he straightens out the cuffs of his white coat. "A baby, seriously. You look like you're ready for this, but I can't imagine. _God, a baby_. I'm going to a uncle, aren't I? We should celebrate. I'm buying you a brownie for lunch. And prenatal vitamins, yes. I'll write those down for you. But, you'll have to ask the urologist and obstetrician, just in case."

"Yeah, okay, Liam, got it," he answers with a laugh.

Liam gets a glint in his eyes, as his mouth curves into a smirk. "What about a sonogram?"

***

"Harry," Zayn looks stupefied when he turns around to see him sitting on the bed, swinging his legs back and forth. His latex glove snap against his wrist as he pulls them on. "What are doing here?"

He smiles pleasantly in return, the sweet truth still not having sunk in. He lays a palm over his abdomen. "You're second to know."

It takes Zayn a moment to catch up. When he does, his jaw drops. "Oh my God. Harry."

"Turns out, I'm up the duff," Harry says zealously, voice running off into a squeal. "You should do a sonogram on me. Liam said you were free. He wanted to come, but he has patients to catch up with." He lays back, getting comfortable against the paper strewn on the hospital bed. The room smell a little like burnt plastic, but it's hardly a worry. "Get on with it."

"Wow, mate. I didn't expect this at all," Zayn says pensively. "You said you always wanted kids, right? You really ready?"

"More than ever."

Zayn smiles and slides Harry's shirt up, before he produces a tiny jar of transparent jelly. He rubs some between his fingers and spreads it across Harry's stomach with eased precision. The jelly is cold and it sends jolts of shivers through Harry's nerves. "That's as cold as they say. Couldn't heat it up? Or do it without?"

"That's not the way it works, Harry," Zayn laughs. "It works as a medium for the skin and the ultrasound wand, 'cause the waves have to go straight through instead of bouncing off. You get me?"

Harry doesn't, but he nods.

On the monitor attached to the wand, an image buzzes into static and makes itself upright. It blinks and becomes brighter. It's nothing artistic; just a black background peppered with bits of chalky grey. "See, that's your inbuilt uterus," Zayn points out, and then, he gestures at the screen to something that looks like a pouch against the grey, an appendage against the wall of him. "That, is your baby."

Harry gasps, hands flying up to his mouth. "That... that bean thing?"

Zayn laughs, raspy. "Yes, the bean thing. It's small, but you're at the beginning, so, it'll be a while before they start growing like crazy. But, I'm sorta disappointed though, mate. With Tommo's genes, I'd expected twins."

Harry's ears are swimming and he can't even listen to Zayn though he tries. He looks down at his flat stomach with the wand on it and back at the screen. "That's my baby. That's our baby. We're having a baby. With tiny fingers and tiny feet and a tiny nose."

"I'm pretty sure all babies are tiny," Zayn laughs once again. "Do you want a copy of that? How many do you want me to print out?"

He's still in a daze of diapers, baby powder and woollen booties. "Erm. Yeah. I'm not sure, but how about... seven?"

"On it," Zayn promises and he types something and then moves to clean the jelly off of Harry's stomach with a tissue. "Gonna tell Louis?"

"Can't wait to tell him," Harry answers with a dopey smile.

***

He squeals out loud when he comes up with the best idea in the entire world.

It works out just in time as Louis comes home in the evening. Harry's sitting at the dining table with his phone when he comes in with his cracking back of aching muscles and tilts Harry's head up for a biting kiss. He loosens out the tie around his neck in the most sexiest way possible. "'Lo, love, how was your day," he asks as he strides into the bedroom.

Harry finds himself smiling as he replies. "Was alright. Thankfully, no one with piles or diarrhoea came in today. Liam says he wants to meet you over a pint and chips this weekend."

"I'll text 'im," Louis calls out, and within a minute or so, he comes out in a pair of plaid pyjamas and a cotton t-shirt that's pulled taut over his chest, his hair is forking out on top of his head and Harry wants to just reach out and mess it up even more. "So, tea, babe. What'll it be? Should I help you?"

Harry bites his lip, suppressing a smile when his husband comes closer and squeezes his shoulder almost therapeutically with his calloused fingers. "No, I've already made something; decided we can have a treat, y'know? I've already had something earlier because I was starving when I came home, so don't worry about me. It's in the oven if you'll be a doll and get it."

"Sure," Louis traipses into the kitchen and dredges out the oven door. He yelps beatifically and nearly burns his fingers as he draws the tray out. "Harry, Bath buns! You made Bath buns!" He extracts a plate from the dishwasher and unloads the buns onto it, piling them all together whilst licking the sugar off his burnt fingers. "Thank you so much, Haz. You know how much I love them. Did you put raisins like last time?"

"Lou," Harry watches horrifically as Louis sways his hips and comes back to sit next to him with a heap of buns. Oddly, it isn't going the way he thought it would.

"You are the best," Louis concludes, smacking a kiss on the other's cheek as he eats his way through them all, wolfing down like he'll never get anymore. He doesn't realise that Harry's plan of eloquence had turned to shreds.

"Louis, you didn't get the message," Harry laments.

"I did, baby," Louis nods. "You love me. I know. I love you too."

"No," Harry starts to protest, but cuts himself off. It was pointless and the timing had gone wrong. Louis didn't understand. He should have just made one bun so it would be understandable. With Louis gobbling them down, Harry was sure the whole _'bun in the oven'_ idea had slipped his mind.

He'll come up with another interesting way, it's alright.

***

"Louis, do you think we can get a new house," Harry mulls over slowly the next day after teatime. He can do this; he can hint at it.

The telly is turned on with to a dull buzz, they're just relaxing and enjoying the simple pleasure of silence and inanimateness. He drums his fingers against Louis's shins that are strewn over his lap. His husband looks at him quizzically, cocking his head up only slightly from having splayed out across the sofa. He doesn't sit up immediately, which meant he wasn't taking this as seriously as Harry wanted him to.

"Why'd you say, love?"

"We could have a bigger house, y'know? Like, you're twenty-eight now and I bet everyone at your firm is married and has kids; half your lawyer friends have their own brood. And, in only a matter of time, we'll be too. Having our own kids, that is. This place is too small, isn't it? Our kids would never adjust to a one storey house. Let's get something bigger," he tries to coerce.

"We do have the money," Louis agrees. "But, I don't see why? There's no need right now, is there?"

"No, but-"

"Darling," Louis laughs, throwing his head back onto the sofa seat. He's dismissing it. He's pushing the topic away like it's useless; those were the tell-tale signs. "We can think about moving when we have our second child on the way. The first hasn't even come, yeah?"

"Yeah, but, what if they're on their way and-"

"I think our house is lovely, Harold," Louis scolds mockingly. "There are pen marks on the dining table and a ketchup stains on the walls and broken tiles in the bathroom, but it's our house. I love it the way it is, because it's a piece of us."

Harry nods and clenches his fists. The point was not delivered. Louis had once again not understood. Great, just great. "Do you think we can paint the guest bedroom? It's looking bland and if we're going to accommodate a new third being, then, I think we should change it up a bit."

"What do you suggest?" The words fly over Louis's head once again, it seems, for he hadn't gotten the 'third being' part.

"Like, a pale yellow for the walls? It'll be gender-neutral," Harry grits out. "Y'know, for a third upcoming party. Like, a third member."

Louis hums and smiles at the ceiling. "You're so considerate, Haz. We'll fix up the guest room whenever we have time. Anyone would appreciate it if they came to stay, right?"

Harry wants to bang his head against the nearest wall.

***

For the simplest, Harry brings home flyers of a baby catalogue and sticks it in the next day's newspaper when Louis comes out to read it. Just in case, he writes 'we should start shopping before the nine month wait is over' at the bottom in black marker. Anyone could latch their eyes onto it without trying. 

He brings in a cup of tea just as Louis is flipping open the newspaper. Harry places it before his husband and waits as he happens upon the flyer. But, Louis doesn't even give it glance as he plucks it out and drops it to the floor. When he stands up to put his cup in the sink, he unknowingly kicks the flyer under the couch and walks away.

Harry sighs and lets himself take a hot long shower.

***

It's about four in the evening on a breezy Saturday when Louis unlocks the door into his home to quite a sight.

Harry springs into action immediately, picking up a piece of a chocolate doughnut and lathering it with a spoon of chunky peanut butter. Then, he pops it into his mouth, moaning exaggeratedly as he glances at Louis from the corner of his eye.

He looks up and feigns surprise. "Oh, babe, you came home. How was Liam?"

"He's fine. Didn't do much," Louis shrugs as he makes his way to the sofa where Harry's seated. "Kicked his arse at Fifa and had a couple o' beers. But, what about you, Harry? Looks like you've been having fun on your own."

Harry shrugs impishly, though he implies heavily. "I was just craving things, y'know? Really weird cravings. I was telling Lou about it, and she said it was weird. Said that she hasn't heard of cravings like this since she was pregnant with Lux. Funny, right?"

Louis is watching his with his usually fond eyes. "It's alright, darling. Everybody feels a bit of craving every once in a while. It's human nature." He was missing the point again, but Harry didn't understand why he was still so surprised at that revelation.

Worst thing is, instead of asking about it, Louis indulges him.

He plops himself down next to Harry and picks out a piece of doughnut for himself. "Actually, I want to see what your tastes are like," he spreads peanut butter on it and promptly eats it. After a moment, his eyes light up along with a sound of approval. "This actually tastes good, Haz. Wow."

Harry chuckles nervously, having lost his whole appetite. "Really? You don't think it's weird?"

"No, love," he says softly, gives him a sticky kiss and leaves to change out of his jeans.

Harry doesn't know how to tell him that he wants Louis to find it weird.

***

The next day -a bright Monday- is the day Harry was going to do it. He was going to hint him once again. He has to before his husband will asking him why he's rapidly putting on weight; because he's daft. He was going to shove the blasting hint in Louis's face till it lit up his face in recognition. If not, he was going to shove it down his throat. Somehow.

He's cleaning up a bit; just the sticky juice on the table, the leftover splattered batter on the stovetop that's been left to dry, putting back all the ingredients. He has an afternoon shift that he'd probably have to spend with Dr Edwards, which was not all disarming since she always gave a good laugh at work. Louis had left only a while ago, with a neatly pressed suit, a black briefcase and a goodbye kiss.

As he weaves his thoughts together consisting of his pregnancy and Louis and his bloody stupidity, he can hear the front door open with a gush of wind; he must have not closed it. But, the door clicks shut a beat later, and Niall is marching in with a grin too bright for a weekday morning and too wide for a person not high on anything (no guarantee there.) But, he comes up behind Harry and shoves at his shoulder. "Hey, Harry." Thankfully, he doesn't fall.

"Niall," he hisses in return. He pushes the chair he'd been clutching back into it's place. "How unexpected."

The man snorts, already making himself at home in the sofa he'd moved towards. "Considering that I didn't text you before coming, yes, it is expected."

"I ought to know already that I shouldn't expect any etiquette from you," Harry scowls, but unscathingly. "What are you doing here? For all you know, I could've left to the hospital."

"It's a Monday, Harry, you have an afternoon shift," he rolls his eyes. "And I also know you have leftover pancake batter in your fridge... so, could you?"

Apparently, it doesn't take much persuasion because Niall's his best friend. Ha. "Only if you'll help me. I'm having joint pains for some reason, couldn't get out of bed today."

"Louis set you straight last night?" Niall is already up, striding to the refrigerator door and opening it pronto while hunting through it. "Poor choice of words," he says to the inside of the refrigerator. "But, you get what I mean."

"Shut up," Harry mutters, though a light pink precipitates on his cheeks.

Within the next twenty minutes, the skillet and batter are used up and a plate of scalding hot pancakes sit under Niall's chin, the hot vapours skimming over his face. It's barely been two minutes by the time he's scuffled down a fourth of his tiny stack. "Harry," he moans. "You shoulda added blueberries, mate. Woulda been ace."

"Lou likes them with strawberries and I like them plain," he supplies simply. He's considering whether or not he should eat something. He's feeling like sweet and starchy, maybe he could slave Niall into making him an apple-date milkshake. The thought of it makes his mouth water.

Successfully, he does force his friend into going out to the shops and getting a pack of dates. When he comes back, Harry hounds him into working the blender under supervision and Niall raises his eyebrows at the amount of sugar he's asked to sprinkle in. It's usually more than it's supposed to be, but Harry couldn't care less about the impending judgement. He doesn't ask about it, though, simply going back to the revolving milkshake and makes sure to pour it how much ever he could into the tallest glas he can find.

They sit in front of the telly for a while, Harry sipping at his glass whilst moaning about how good it tastes. Niall simply watches him with the blender jar in one hand, waiting to pour more into Harry's glass once he demands. After Harry has sunk into the cushions with the empty glass (and blender jar) on the tea-table and let out satisfied sigh, Niall sits up straighter and peruses him with squinted eyes. "You're pregnant, aren't you?"

Well, if that doesn't make Harry jerk upright.

"Huh?" He manages to say oh-so-articulately.

"You're pregnant, Haz," Niall marvels with a grin that's slowly taking over his face. He surges forward and hugs a frozen Harry so tight, he can feel his eyeballs bulging from their sockets. "About time, I'd say. I'm so happy for you. So happy. If it's a boy, you can name him Niall. Or you can negotiate it to being his middle name, okay?"

"How could you tell," Harry asks slowly, still haven't gotten over surprise he felt from the deduction. "Was it because of the milkshake? Y'know, weird cravings and stuff."

Niall laughs, gently than he usually does. But, his eyes are ablaze with jubilance. "That's actually normal for you, Harry. You make smoothies like that all the time, maybe not a combo, but you're a health nut and I would have expected that from you. It's your hand, actually. You've had it over your stomach since morning and you haven't moved it at all, like you're being protective.

He glances down and sees that his hand was still there on his abdomen, unconsciously. Oh.

"How did Louis react?" Niall asks then.

That makes Harry deflate. "Don't even go there," he whines as he sags back into the sofa. At Niall's inquisitive expression, he gives him a face of melancholy. "You've literally been here for an hour and I didn't even try telling you, but you figured it out. He can't even understand a blooming hint when I give it to him."

He explains to Niall all his useless attempts; the bun and the baby catalogue and the painting idea, and how Louis had brushed away every word because he lost the plot a long time ago. It has Niall in fits of laughter. By the time it's subsided a little just so he can catch his breath, Niall is on the rug on his knees, clutching his scrawny stomach as tears made their way out of his eyes. "Oh God. Oh sweet mother of Jesus. I-I can't even," he bursts into another peal of laughter.

"Niall," Harry groans. "Tell me what to do."

"If you have a few more ideas up your sleeve, then use 'em. He can't be that idiotic, right?"

***

Turns out, Louis Tomlinson is infact very idiotic.

Harry goes out the next day and buys three pairs of red Vans, variable in sizes. One pair for Louis, one for himself and another for the upcoming baby. The baby wasn't going to wear them, but it was supposed to enable a implication that hopefully Louis would catch onto. He places them all by the door in a line that makes it look like a perfect family. And waits. Waits till time.

When Louis comes home, he's hiding out in the bedroom so that Louis could run into the bedroom and pounce on him to hug him his death when he learns the truth. Instead, he hears him calling from the lounge. "Haz, I think Lux left her shoes here, did she come by and leave barefoot?"

Now, honestly, Harry might just cry out of frustration.

***

He's got a remarkable idea, and it has to do with cooking. He's sure he won't mess it up last time like with the buns. The confession will be straight out and blatant, that even a a person of a single digit IQ would be able to figure it out. He's kneading cookie dough in the evening, getting it caked under his nails and having to take a break in the middle from his fatigue.

A text message from Louis comes, but he's too far into his euphoria to even notice as he pats the large dish-sized cookie onto an aluminium tray. He makes vanilla icing and waits till the cookie is baked before he ices it with utmost skill. Once he's happy with his handiwork, he kills time on the recent episode of _Daredevil_. Though his eyes are fixed to his laptop screen, all he can think about it is Louis's face when he realises that they were going to have a child.

Louis comes home with a little wiggle in his feet. He swoops in through the door, wrenches the laptop from Harry's lap, throws his arms around him and nearly lifts him off the sofa, making him yelp out. "Lou, put me down. Put me down!"

"I'm so happy, Harry," he gushes out at once, falling down into a seat next to him. "I'm so so very happy."

"Yeah, yeah you are," Harry laughs along with him. He doesn't know what it is, but he's going to be happier when Harry tells him. He's going to be a million times more happy. "I made you something."

Louis almost jumps off his seat. "What? What did you make?"

"Relax, babe," Harry beams to himself while sashaying to the kitchen. He produces a china plate and places the big iced cookie he had prepared on it and brings it back to the lounge. "Close your eyes," he warns his husband. "Close your eyes or I'll never let you see it."

"Okay, okay," Louis gives in with a giggle.

He places the plate in Louis's lap and stands before him. "Open them."

Louis does, and immediately, his eyes seek out to his lap. The cookie is a just a large rectangle with the words 'CONGRATULATIONS DADDY' written in icing. He gasps in surprise, looking up at Harry with so much love. He quickly rests the plate on the tea-table. He darts out to wind his arms around Harry's waist, flips him around and pulls him into his lap. "Thank you so much, baby," he mumbles into Harry's shoulder, arms caressing over his stomach. "You make me feel like the happiest man on earth. I don't know how you love me, but I'm so glad you do."

"Lou," Harry says gingerly, wrapping his arms around the other man's. He's so relieved. He's so happy too.

"Seriously, I thought nothing could make me feel happy today after getting to know I got that bonus, but you always find a way to outdo it."

Harry goes rigid against him. "W-What? What bonus?"

"The one I texted you in the evening about, love," he kisses his shoulder. "I won the bonus that I told you about last month, remember?"

"S-Sorry, you were so happy, I'd forgotten what it was all about," Harry lies. The dread is back. It's chilling inside his bones and it spreads all the way to his head.

"Well, I'm so glad you made me a cookie to celebrate it," he replies cheerfully, then, he pulls Harry completely against him till the younger man's back is draped over him. He whispers gravely against his ear. "And your cookie is awfully suggestive, innit? What were you hoping for tonight, baby? I'll give it to you just the way you want it. Think you can handle it, love?"

Harry continues frowning, though incredibly turned on.

***

The final idea knocks down all the others.

It's too brilliant, and Harry is too sure that this one will not go unnoticed. It cannot when the clear evidence is presented on a metaphorical platter to his husband; who's prolonging the impression of being nothing but daft. Louis was always easy to pick up on things. Harry would be sad on some days, and it would take Louis one glance to figure out something was wrong. What Harry couldn't understand was why Louis couldn't see it? Everybody could, but the father himself couldn't. Perhaps after temporarily giving up on trying for a baby, he hadn't expected the aftermath so soon?

Two days later, Harry leaves a picture of his sonogram by the bathroom sink just before climbing into bed. It just sits there innocently while Harry can only chance a look at the doorway as he's seeped into the mountain pillows with a mouthful of yawns. When Louis comes into the room, Harry pretends to be nonchalant, something his husband could notice because he looks confused (then, why couldn't he understand the word 'baby'?)

"I'll be back, Harry, and then you can tell me what exactly you think you're up to," Louis quips, before going into the bathroom for attending nature's call. Harry's heart is lodged straight up his throat and he can feel the beat of it everywhere in his body; his temples, his fingertips, mostly the cavity of his chest.

But, Louis is speaking from inside while washing his hands, voice slightly reverberrating. "Harry, you've got to stop bringing home patients' sonographs. It's extremely rude." The door opens to reveal an unimpressed face.

Harry is just so so tired. He doesn't answer.

***

It's the Late Summer Bank Holiday when both of them get an off, and they're lounging in bed. Harry has his head on pillow that sits in Louis's lap, while he absently threads through his husband's curls while reading a book over a pair of thick rimmed glasses.

Harry has set aside the prospect of trying to tell Louis. Or perhaps he's looking for better ideas with clear understanding so that he doesn't have to blurt it out to him. He wanted it to be perfect, but it always ended in a mess. Liam and Niall were definitely getting off on it, laughing themselves to heaven everytime they saw Harry's face. For now, he was putting his attempts on pause.

Abruptly, Louis sets his book down, placing his glasses over it and peers at Harry curiously until they meet eyes. "What?" Harry asks, rather unintelligibly.

"Do you want to do something? I feel like lazing around in bed is an old people thing. We're still young, Harold, let's do something fun!"

Harry shakes his head instantaneously. "Not feeling it, babe. You go ahead. I'm sure Niall's doing nothing at the moment. Maybe you can call him."

"I wanna do something with you," Louis whinges, ruffling up the other man's curls between his fingers. "Let's make weed brownies. I still have a stash of Tupperware in my underwear drawer."

Harry's eyes grow wide. He sits up, leaning his weight on his palms while glancing at the other quizzically. He hadn't known he kept it with his underwear. Oh Lord. "No, Lou, I don't think that's a good idea."

Louis turns to face him with a pout. "C'mon!"

"No."

"Please?"

"No, Louis. No, no, no."

"How about we go down to the skateboard park on 2nd Street? Maybe I can teach a few tricks."

Louis was not about get any lower, he realises as he gulps painfully. "I'm not interested, Louis. You can go with Niall."

"You're no fun!"

"I'm not."

"Don't accept it." Louis grins once again after losing his scowl. "Haz. Harry. Babe, you wanna get drunk?"

"No!"

"But, you love a glass of red now and then!"

"I don't wanna drink."

"Oh, please, Harry. You like it when you're buzzing."

"I said I didn't want to."

"Why don't you?"

"I just don't."

"Why not?"

"I can't."

"Why can't you?"

Harry sees red for a moment, because his mouth is snapping his mouth open and the words are out in a flash of lightening. "Because I'm pregnant, you berk!" When he realises what he's blurted out, his face crumples. Crap. Crap. Crap. "Oh, no."

Louis is looking the most scandalised he has ever seen him, worse than the time when he'd walked in on Lottie and her boyfriend. It shouldn't have gone that way. It should have been flawless as Louis came to a neat conclusion and they would've celebrated nicely and had great sex. This was simply putting him on the spot. This was holding him at gunpoint. This wasn't how it was supposed to be done. "W-What?"

"Erm," Harry ducks away from his gaze.

Louis forces him to meet his eyes, tucking a finger under his chin and lifting it. "Repeat that, will you," he requests softly.

"Lou, we're going to have a baby," Harry says slowly. It was more breezy, more intimate than he'd anticipated it to be, with Louis looking right into his eyes, and himself exhaling the truth like a breath he'd held in for too long. "I was trying to tell you since the last week and half in so many different ways, but you wouldn't get it."

"The sonograph," he breaths out when the epiphany hits him.

"Not just that," Harry laughs hoarsely, a tinkle for just a second. "There were so many more attempts, you didn't see any of them. I tried writing it down for you on a cookie, made a 'bun in the oven' reference. I even went and got baby shoes but you thought they were Lux's."

"Bloody hell," Louis swears, his hand flies up to grasp his forehead. "I'm so daft. _So_ daft."

"You are."

"Bloody hell," he repeats. His eyes land on Harry's flat stomach. "Are you really- are you sure? We're going to be parents? Really?"

Harry feels a wave of tears hit him at once, he doesn't know for what reason. All he knows is that his throat is caving and this feeling, it couldn't be above anything else. He sniffles, takes Louis's hand by the wrist and lets his palm rest against his own abdomen, nodding shakily. "Yes. Yeah. We're going to be dads."

"Oh my god," Louis says like he's just gotten to know what air is, and honestly, Harry feels the same. "Oh my god," he looks down at Harry's stomach and strokes it carefully. "Holy-" he looks up at Harry as he chokes up, his eyes are swimming with unshed tears. "Harry, I," he lunges forward at once, engulfing him into his arms, arms wound around him so tight and Harry begins to cry. He's so happy. He's so happy it can't be compared. He didn't think he would ever be this happy. "Baby, we're going to have a baby."

"We are, we are," Harry nods against his shoulder.

Louis tears away from him, only to press their foreheads together. His voice cracks as he speaks. "We're going to be the best parents ever," he breaths out. "We're going to raise them so carefully, and we're going to see them take their first steps and help them get ready for their first date and we're going to watch them graduate. We're going to love them do much."

Harry whimpers and heaves forward and seals their lips in a burning kiss. They will. They're going to love them so much. He knows it.

 

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading. Feedback is appreciated. x


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